Beyond the Door
by Kori Suketchi
Summary: There's a price for breaking the rules, so Death has come to claim it. Taking a step beyond the doors, Jesse journeys into the unknown to find his querida. But can he trust his only guide, a quirky young musician who calls himself Virgil?
1. Eyes

Author's notes: Post Twilight. I should be working on Querida Mia, but I'm lazy. And I like the characters in this one better. Organization's in question though.

* * *

**Beyond the Door**

There's a price for breaking the rules, so Death has come to claim it. Taking a step beyond the doors, Jesse journeys into the unknown to find his querida. With unsettling denizens and impossible locations, his only guide is a quirky young musician who calls himself Virgil.

Chapter 1

I patted the dirt with the sole of my shoe, almost nostalgically. I usually didn't come to the Mission grounds on weekdays, but I had an appointment. The sun was mostly overhead, which meant about noon then. Somewhere in the distance I could vaguely hear the students bustling about for lunch, Susannah among them. But I wasn't here to see her, unfortunately.

I slowly paced in a plot about seven by three feet. The grass there was suspiciously shorter than the surrounding area, as if it had only started growing a while ago. There used to be a marker here as well, custom ordered by the few who knew me. Here, on this spot, used to be something important. Well, at the time, it wasn't important to me. I didn't need it to move around or talk to Susannah, certainly. But since last month, it was what changed my entire afterlife around.

Last month, I got my body back.

See, for the last century and a half, I have been dead. Yes, dead. Being a ghost wasn't so bad, honestly. I didn't need to eat, never felt ill, and could still learn about the world around me. Of course, not being visible to most, I did get terribly lonely. That was solved, however, when Susannah came into my life. In more ways than one.

That's a much longer story though.

But let me get back to more recent times. Like I said, I have been alive (again) for a little under a month. With much help from Father Dominic, I have a small place in town near my job at the Historical Society Museum. It was a little unsettling at first to see things that belonged to my late acquaintances, but I've made my peace with it. Normally at this time, I would be giving more lectures about the 1800's to various groups of college students or children on field trips but today I needed to have a special talk.

Right on time, my appointment arrived. Paul Slater stepped out from under the archway and greeted me with a "Hey." It wasn't enthusiastic – given our history I would be surprised if it was – but it was friendly. The last time we met, during prom, he had been very nervous. Not of me, necessarily, but our terms before that had been shaky, putting it lightly. That was the first time we met each other since I had been alive, and both of us were unsure where we stood. But Paul surprised me in apologizing for everything. We didn't get a good chance to talk it over though since we somehow gathered a crowd of onlookers – overwhelmingly made up of girls – which kept us from talking in depth about what had happened. I excused myself to talk to Adam just so that they would disperse. Before we split up though, he asked that I meet him sometime so we could talk.

So here we were.

"Hey, Slater." I asked casually as he walked up to me, "So what did you want to talk about?"

He cleared his throat and said, "Well, we didn't get a chance to talk very much. You know, about last month."

I nodded. "I see. Anything in particular you had in mind?" I knew very well what he wanted to talk about, but waited for him to bring it up himself. I wanted to see if what Susannah said was true, that Paul had changed. Not that he wasn't still the most popular guy at school, but in terms about how their relationship stood. As friends, that is.

But she did have a point. Just looking at the way Slater carried himself at the moment, one could tell something was different. He just seemed, for a lack of better word, softer. Not quite so arrogant and somewhat unsure.

He continued, "About Suze. She's probably already told you, but I just wanted to let you know face-to-face that I'm not up to anything. Not digging up some old friends of yours, not planning your re-death or anything like that. I really do wish you guys the best of luck." There was a moment of hesitation, as ifhe was waiting for a response.

I nodded, but didn't say anything. He wasn't looking me in the eye, but it wasn't because he was being shifty. In fact, Paul's brand of shiftiness was more of a smug I'm-not-telling-you-everything aura. This was more as if he had a pain somewhere inside him that he was trying his hardest to ignore. And I knew what it was.

Paul really did care for Susannah, but was renouncing his rivalry anyway.

But he surprised me further by straightening up to add, "Just… I want you to trust me."

My eyes widened, and I blurted out, "Why?" He looked hurt, but I quickly amended, "Not that I think you're dangerous. I'm just wondering why you want my trust. I can believe Susannah when she's says you've reformed, but that is an unusual request."

Shrugging, he said, "Forgiveness is one thing, but I was hoping we could bury the hatchet all together. You know, start over and maybe become friends. And," he smirked in a way that suited him much better, "I think we owe it to Suze anyway since we kinda broke her door."

I laughed and held my hand out to him, which he shook gratefully. Yes, it would be useless for either of us to harbor grudges. It would only lead to misery for Susannah and possibly her family.

After that, Paul told me news of Dr. Slaski. He was in much better condition and – whenever his nurse wasn't present – was teaching Paul about shifting in moderation. He had offered to teach Suze, but she decided that shifting just wasn't something she wanted to mess with anytime soon. Paul, in turn, was also redeeming himself with Jack, his little brother who had stayed with their parents. He wasn't a shifter, but any mediator could use some help once in awhile.

Paul hadn't yet pried out what had happened to Dr. Slaski that made him turn his own life around, but he assured me that he was working on it. As of yet, the response now went from grumbling to "Mind your own business." I suppose that could be considered making process.

We parted later when he had to go back to class. I stopped by Father Dominic's office for a casual talk. He looked a bit worse for wear, but he brushed it off as having a bad night's sleep. A week's worth. When I inquired further, Father Dominic said he was old enough to handle a few bad dreams. He then handed me a briefcase full of papers, which needed to be completed in order to prove I existed. Suddenly being alive after 150 years was tricky business. No Social Security number, no birth records, nothing. I wasn't entirely sure if this was tweaking the legal system, but I hardly had a choice.

Later that night as I was concentrating on filling out the various forms, the phone rang. I picked up and held the cordless between my ear and shoulder, still checking off a series of yes or no questions about whether or not I had been convicted of a felony. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jesse," came Susannah's voice over the line, "Have fun talking to Paul?"

I almost marked the wrong box. "How did you know about that?"

"I have my sources." Which probably translated to 'CeeCee, Adam, and I spied on you.'

Sighing audibly, I said, "I'm sure you three would make wonderful detectives."

I could just imagine her rolling her eyes at the comment before saying, "Yeah, we just need you, Paul, and the Mystery Machine and we could all hunt ghosts together."

"Very funny." Sarcastic, but I smiled genuinely. I had been doing that a lot recently. Just then, I noticed my watch. "It's getting late, _querida_. Don't you have to study for tomorrow?" She had a test in one of her science classes. I knew because she had been complaining about the teacher a few days earlier.

Susannah assured me, "I totally have it covered."

"Uh-huh," I replied, "Going to look over CeeCee's notes in the morning then?" I knew her too well.

"No." There was a pause as Susannah tried to come up with an excuse. But then I suppose she remembered that they never worked since she relented, "Fine, I'll get to it but..."

When she trailed off, I asked with concern, "Susannah?"

"Oh sorry, there's another _guest_." By the way she said 'guest' it was obviously of the undead variety. Her voice muffled slightly as she turned her attention to the visitor. "Ah, so what's your problem?"

"Be nice," I reminded her.

"I am! Besides," she added in a whisper, "this guy's a little freaky." She spoke to the ghost again, "Whoa, did you get red contacts somewhere? Because that's-"

There was a soft thud.

"Susannah?" Silence. "Susannah!"

One month ago, we had gone to the prom together. We laughed and danced, the party also serving as our own private celebration of my newfound life.

One month ago, Paul had let go of Susannah and started re-evaluating his life. He was listening to his grandfather and learning how to use his shifting powers in moderation.

One month ago, everything had finally been all right.

* * *

Author's Notes: The original concept was conceived when I was introduced to the works of Jacek Yerka and Zdislaw Beksinski (recently found murdered) and completely adored their surrealism and creepy-tastic concepts, respectfully. Google them up and have a look. My mind, which loves unfinished projects, came up with this story. Very Dante-esque. Happy readings. 


	2. Taken

Chapter 2: Taken_  
_

_Where… is this?_

It was just the two of us in a white room by the next morning. I had stayed by her side the entire night.

"Susannah…" I murmured as I held her hand, my thumb briefly brushing the hospital tag fastened around her wrist. Various machines were beeping in the background, a steady rhythm that threatened to lull me asleep. Tubes and drips wove together; somehow aiding her while she remained in this unconscious state. It seemed so long ago that I too was studying modern day medicine to help people like this.

But I only saw her, my querida.

I was at a complete loss as to what had happened. After Susannah's phone had cut off, I rushed to her house. Her mother had answered the door, a little confused, but upon seeing my anxiety agreed to look in on her to see if something was wrong. When we reached her room, Susannah was lying on the floor unconscious, phone still in hand.

She simply would not wake up. No amount of noise or movement would rouse her. The doctors were completely baffled. There were no bruises to indicate trauma or signs of asphyxiation. To them, Susannah Simon had slipped into a coma for no reason at all.

But I knew better. Suze's last words were towards a ghost. A ghost with red eyes. In my 170 years on this earth, I had never seen such a spirit. When someone dies, they become the form they are most the comfortable and natural.

And red eyes are not natural.

Bringing her hand up to my lips, I silently promised to bring her back. Just as she had done for me twice already. The warmth of her skin signaled she was still alive, meaning there was still time to find out what had done this to her. Only several weeks ago I would have suspected the obvious: Paul Slater.

But things were different now.

He gave me his word that he would honor her choice, and I could do nothing but trust him.

As if on cue, there was a knock. In the open doorway was Paul, standing behind an old man in a wheelchair who had to be Dr. Slaski. The old man seemed barely conscious, as if he also needed hospital care, but according to both Susannah and Paul, this was just a ruse. For what reason, they never questioned.

"We heard from the principal," explained Paul as he wheeled his grandfather to Susannah's bedside. I had called Father Dominic as soon as she was taken to the hospital. Supernatural or not, he cared a great deal for her well-being.

Paul had not looked at me when he said it though. His eyes, sad and pained, were completely set on Susannah. Any lingering thoughts that Paul was involved were swept away.

"Any idea what happened?" he asked softly, still watching her.

I looked down at her hand again that I was still holding, "Not sure. I was talking to her on the phone when she mentioned another ghost had appeared in her room. One with red eyes."

Paul finally turned to me, eyes wide, "Red? That's -" He was interrupted by a coughing fit from Dr. Slaski, who seemed to be choking on his own words as he tried to say something. Paul patted him on the back, "Take it easy, gramps! What's wrong?"

Dr. Slaski seemed to suddenly snap into lucidity, crumpling the tissue Paul was using to wipe away the spittle that had come with the coughing spasm. "Take it easy! We can't take it easy! She's been taken, boy!"

"What do you mean 'taken'?" I asked sharply.

"Her soul!" urged the old man, "Don't you understand! The only other time shifters go limp like this is when they visit the shadow world. And if she didn't do it herself, she's been taken there!" He looked almost crazed as he threw the tissue back at his grandson.

Paul and I were at a loss for words. Dr. Slaski put his head in his wrinkled hands, rocking back and forth like a lost child. I needed answers. Finally, I asked quietly, "Can she be brought back?"

He stopped and looked up at me, "Yes, but…" He shook his head, "There's so much I can't even begin to tell you…"

"What do you mean, Gramps?" asked Paul.

Dr. Slaski was speaking so quietly, we had to lean in to hear him over the medical machines. "Shifters have the ability to take or replace a soul, but we're not the only ones who can."

My heart skipped a beat as I felt a terrible sense of foreboding. Paul pushed on, "Who? Someone with red eyes?"

Dr. Slaski nodded sadly, "Red eyes. The eyes of Death himself."

Silence.

I gripped Susannah's hand tighter, "Are you saying that a personification of Death took Susannah's soul?" It didn't make sense. When I died, I certainly hadn't seen any red-eyed beings check in on me. Nor had I seen any previous spirits taken away by one. Vortexes into shadowland, yes, but never a being of Death.

Paul echoed my thoughts, "But Suze isn't _dead_!"

"But she will be. Remember what I told you about shifting?"

Paul let out a frustrated sigh and said in monotone, "There are three parts to being just as there are to shifting. 'Here, there, and the border' become 'Mind, body, and soul.' Taking away one offsets the rest eventually." I suppose Dr. Slaski had drilled the lesson into his grandson many times before.

"I should know," Dr. Slaski muttered. He seemed to struggle with falling asleep, squinting frequently before finally managing to keep his gaze concentrated. He sighed and stared at me, as if suddenly realizing something, "You're that ghost boy, aren't you? The one she brought back."

"Yes," I introduced myself, "Jesse de Silva."

"So that's it then." He settled back in his wheelchair, looking defeated.

"What's it?" asked Paul.

"I was wondering why Death would pick up that girl personally. It must've been one giant feat she did to unbalance that lot. And there it is," he vaguely gestured in my direction, "She brought him back from the dead, so Death took her in return."

I couldn't speak. It was _my_ fault. I wasn't dead so Susannah was my replacement. Dr. Slaski's tone hadn't been accusing, just stating the facts, but I knew it was my fault in essence. _My_ fault. I was alive.

I could barely hear Dr. Slaski continue to talk to me, "Don't take it so hard, boy. She made the decision herself, didn't she?"

"We didn't _know_!" I burst out, getting out of my chair. The circumstances leading back to my sudden status of 'alive' were purely by luck and coincidence. "Susannah never set out to purposely find me a body!"

"What's done is done. There are higher powers at work here you can't even begin to imagine." I was about to yell at the old man for basically saying there was no hope until I noticed the bitter tone with which he said that latter statement. He was gripping the handles of his chair rather tightly.

Paul picked up on it too. He looked down at his grandfather and said lowly, "You know how to find her, don't you?" I perked up. If there was any chance of bringing back Susannah, I would take it.

Dr. Slaski was still for a moment before he remarked, "Your grandmother was a bit like this girl. Strong-willed, lovely. I couldn't let her go either." Before either of us could comment or question this, he turned to me and said, "Paul will have to take you. I'm too weak to do much traveling anymore."

"Where?" I asked.

"Beyond the door," he said simply, "Walk to the end of the hallway. Can't miss it." Dr. Slaski then slumped into his chair with a wheeze, sound asleep.

After a futile attempt to wake Dr. Slaski again, Paul and I wordlessly got ready. It was like a heavy weight on my heart, mulling over the price we had paid. I don't know what Paul was thinking, although I'm certain he blamed me as well.

We settled in chairs next to Susannah's bed as Paul put his hand on my shoulder to assure he would shift me as well. He asked quietly, "Ready?"

"One thing first." He looked at me, curious despite himself. I took in a deep shuddering breath and said, "If I don't make it back with you two, take care of Susannah." If it was a life Death wanted, he would have to take mine.

Paul stared at me like I was the stupidest thing he had ever seen, "What are you talking about? We're all coming back together." He was smirking, but in an encouraging way. "Then you guys can get back to saving puppies and kittens or whatever it is you do-gooders do."

I returned the smile, "Then I guess I'm ready."

"Here we go." There was a sudden lightness in me and I blinked. We were there.

* * *

Author's Notes: While on hiatus, I've actually been turning this story into an original one. Since I'll probably never actually publish that finished product, I figured whoever is still reading this might still want the rest of this fic. So, yeah, here it is. If you're lucky, I'll get bored/inspired enough to finish Querida Mia or Role Reversal 2 that people seem to like so much.

Huh, leave for a few months and all these new doo-dads and stats pop up.

Anyway, happy readings.


	3. Gate

Chapter 3: Gate

_I feel so light…_

There was fog. Actually that was it. Nothing but fog. It felt like being in a giant marshmallow. Barely visible were the twinkling of what looked like stars above us. Other than that, I couldn't see a thing. I coughed automatically and a swirl of white rippled in front of me.

"Jesse?" asked Paul, somewhere to my right.

"Yeah, I'm here." Wherever here was, anyway.

This didn't seem right. The fog was too thick. Normally, it settled at knee height in the hallway. As it was, I couldn't see any of the doors either. I didn't want to accidentally stumble into one.

"Is there anyway to get rid of this?" I asked in Paul's general direction.

He answered, "Hell if I know." Wonderful. I vaguely wondered if we could trudge forward until we hit something.

"Can't you two do anything right?" I stood still. That was not Paul. The voice sounded familiar but I couldn't place it.

The fog started to roll, splitting open a path that almost looked like the parting of the Red Sea. Paul was in fact to my right, only three feet ahead of me. But we were both staring at where the rolling path led.

That was not a 'door' as Dr. Slaski had put it.

Towering above us was a huge, dark stone gateway. Both the doors and the frame were decorated with intricate sculptures carved deeply into the marbled surface. As we approached it, my eyes fixed on the fantastic scenes of flying horses, winged gods, and scarred monsters. I brought up my hand to touch the small carving of a nymph hiding in a bush, until it squeaked and ran away.

They were _alive_. In a manner of speaking. The miniature bush rustled again as if confirming the thought.

Paul, who hadn't noticed, stepped closer to examine the giant curved handles that looked suspiciously like rib bones. But when he saw many tiny empty eyes abruptly turn towards him, he backed away a few paces. "This is the place then?" I asked unnecessarily.

"Yeah, but," He frowned, looking around in confusion. "How did we get here?"

"What do you mean?"

"We were supposed to shift into the hallway and walk to the end. Not instantly transport here." He turned away from the staring and now chittering sculptures. They darted around their carved environment, making high-pitched conversation with each other, eager and excited. For what, I didn't know.

"They know you're here." We both jumped and turned towards the voice, the same one who had criticized us before. There was a young man standing near the giant hinge of the door and frame. He was transparent, like all ghosts, but there was something off about him. Something terribly familiar about those blue eyes.

Then it hit me. He looked an awful lot like Paul.

Paul yelled incredulously, "Gramps!"

I stared at the man. Yes, it did look like an older version of Paul, but a younger version of Dr. Slaski. Same eyes, same nose. Except now he was standing up straight and perfectly fine. Fine for a ghost, that is.

"Are you…?" Paul trailed off.

"What, dead? No, stupid," Dr. Slaski said as he strode up to us effortlessly. "This is where I go when I can't be in my body. No point in wandering around in my own mind. Been there, done that."

"But you said we shouldn't shift often!"

He rolled his eyes, "You think I do this for fun? No, boy, I can't control it anymore. Not easily anyway. Half in, half out, none of the stability." It was bizarre to hear this man, who looked no more than five years older than me, call Paul 'boy.'

"Less talking, more doing," Dr. Slaski went on, rubbing his hands together, "Just open the door and wish for the best. Or the favor of the gods. It's best to be specific." He was surprisingly animated as a ghost.

"Are you coming with us?" I asked. Whatever was on the other side of this creepy gateway, it seemed better to go in numbers.

He shook his head, "Can't. I've already been in there once, and I don't want to take anymore chances. I wonder what that gladiator fellow is doing," he added as an afterthought. Without another word, Dr. Slaski walked away from us, back into the fog.

"Why does he keep doing that?" I asked no one in particular.

Paul sighed, "I think Gramps has been unbalanced since whatever happened to make him like this." I pondered about that. Dr. Slaski had mentioned a few things that were more than unusually precise: this location, the identity of Susannah's captor, and not to mention just knowing so much about being a shifter in general.

But I'd think about it later. I had to find Susannah. Taking in a steadying breath, I muttered, "Here goes nothing," and put my hand on the gleaming white handle. The stone creatures quieted themselves. With a heave, I pulled it open just an inch. But apparently that was enough room for something the size of my fist to leap out and grab me around the neck.

"Holy shit! Jesse!"

I yelled a string of Spanish curses as I was thrown backwards. Clawing at my collar, I tried to pry whatever it was away from my trachea, but the thing made a sickening squelching noise and started unraveling itself so that tendrils fastened its centerpiece to the hollow of my neck.

The sculptures screeched again as they watched me wrestle with my own neckline. Paul was also trying to pull at the strands at my nape, but my rolling around was keeping him from getting a good grip.

Finally, the thing shuddered and collapsed. It was still draped around me, but loosely.

Paul shook me upright and asked, "You all right?"

"I… I'm fine." Even I was surprised. There was no choking or even discomfort of any kind. I brought a hand up to my collar to examine the new but slight weight around my neck. It was a necklace, a remarkable ruby pendent hung on a long, thin black chain. So long, in fact, that it seemed to be wrapped around my neck several times. Without a clasp to undo it, it looked like it was there for good. Until I got a hold of a pair of pliers anyway.

"That's what tried to kill you! I thought it was one of those facehugger aliens or something." Paul took the ruby into his hand and flipped it around, looking for some sign of life. It just glittered innocently. "If there's more killer jewelry behind there, no wonder Gramps left."

I sighed, "We've got no choice. Help me open this more so we can get through." Even though I could've have sworn it was alive and unpleasantly slick a moment ago, as long as it wasn't harmful, there wasn't any point in dealing with the unusual necklace now. We both took hold of one of the handles and pulled it open just enough to slide inside. You know, in case there were any rings with teeth or biting earrings in there too.

Paul peered through the opening. "It looks the same as it does out here. All fog." I took a look. Indeed it was just more white fog.

"I'll go first. If something happens-"

"Yes, yes, if you die chivalrously, I'll go back and die of guilt and Suze will be a vegetable," said Paul sarcastically as he waved me in. "Just go through already."

I bit back a retort and settled for a half-hearted glare. With the nervousness between us was gone, Paul seemed more inclined to banter sardonically with me. At least that showed we were more at ease with each other. I suppose that was a good thing.

I slipped inside, Paul right after me.

It really didn't look any different. Just a lot of fog, as usual. I don't know what I was expecting, but this definitely wasn't it. I turned to tell Paul so, but he was staring at me. "What?"

"Look at yourself!" He said simply. I did. My hands looked as they always did: tan, clean, and solid.

Wait. Solid?

It was true. I didn't look like a ghost anymore. Completely solid all the way through. I looked back at Paul. He was still transparent. In fact, he was getting fainter by the second.

"Paul!" I lunged for him, but went straight through. He faded completely, a look of surprise on his face.

There was a chuckle from above me, "Can't travel without a permit, no sirree."

"Who's there?" I looked up at the door frame, but it was too high to see who was perched there. The only thing I could make out was a silhouette casually sitting on the corner.

"Why, me, of course," replied the male voice. After this non-answer, he amended, "Oh! You want a _name_! Let's see, I have dozens…" He started calling off random names, even female ones.

After he mentioned 'Alice' twice, I interrupted, "Could you pick just one I may call you by? And then maybe come down from there?"

"Just the one?" He asked. "Oh all right. At least you were polite about it." There was a silence, and I wondered if he was narrowing down his choices. A 'tap!' on the ground behind me made me turn around. A very odd man, balancing on one foot, was twirling something in his right hand.

"You may call me Virgil then," he smiled broadly. "Welcome to Nyx."

* * *

Author's Note: I meant to update on Saturday but got distracted by Garth Nix's Across the Wall. I'll do a weekly update starting the week after this upcoming weekend because of obvious Harry Potter related squealiness.

And just as an observation, I noticed this is the first fic I've written that isn't expressly shipping a couple, although it's the catalyst. It's also my least popular. Haha, may be a correlation. Ah well, that's all good, I'm having fun writing it. Nyx is a fun place.

Happy Readings.


	4. Virgil

Chapter 4: Virgil

_Jesse…?_

I stared at 'Virgil.' He finally put both feet on the ground and walked toward me. I evaluated him quickly.

His clothes weren't too unusual. Well, not for me at least. His billowy shirt, traveling pants, and boots wouldn't have been entirely out of place back in the 1800's. They just looked very new, as if he had never actually traveled in them. On top of his head of golden red hair was a jaunty red beret, stuck with a black feather like a large hat pin. The thing in his right hand was a flute of some sort.

'_Red eyes. The eyes of Death himself.'_

I remembered Dr. Slaski's vital words and looked at Virgil's eyes. Er, eye. I suddenly noticed he wore a patch over his right eye. The other was emerald green.

He wasn't Death.

But I was fairly sure he wasn't 'Virgil' either. Not the one Dante was talking about anyway. This guy reminded me of the Cheshire Cat more than anything else with the way he was grinning at me. Whoever he was, I had to keep my guard up. I asked quickly, "Where's Paul?"

Virgil tilted his head, "The other guy? Oh, don't worry. He's not dead or anything." Looking up at the sky, as if searching for Paul there, he continued absently, "Sent back. Can't come in this way unless you have the Gods' Favor."

"Favor?"

"Yes, Favor. That," he said pointing to the necklace with his flute, "is the Gods' Favor. Very few are in rotation." He wiggled his fingers up and down as if counting and added, "Well, none exactly, unless you count this exception. And what an exception it is!" He laughed and spun around on one foot.

He was acting suspiciously like Dr. Slaski was a few moments ago. I started to doubt his sanity.

My skepticism about having 'the favor of the gods' must've shown since Virgil stopped his twirling to smirk and say, "Gods, demons, jackasses… they get called many things, but they are there. Depending on how you look at it, of course. Who created whom and all that rot. But enough of that!" He clapped his hands together and pointed his flute at me, beaming, "That's a different story! Ours starts now! All you need to know is that I, Virgil, am honor-bound to guide you by the Favor of the Gods. Where would you like to go?"

The magic question. "I need to find someone: Susannah Simon. She was, er, taken here, I was told."

"Susannah Simon? Simon Susannah? Susannah, Susannah…" Virgil paced tightly before stopping to ask, "The shifter girl?"

"Yes! Where is she?"

"Not here, not here…" he echoed himself, looking outwards away from me and the gate. He looked over his shoulder to remark, "Hmm, Death took her, yes? Then shouldn't she be out of reach already? Over the river and through the woods?"

"But she isn't dead back on the other side!" I said vehemently. It couldn't be too late already.

"She _isn't_? That's amazing!" He looked very surprised. Although, Virgil seemed like the type to be surprised that his own head was screwed on. However, he suddenly frowned. "Wait a moment. That _is_ amazing." Brow knitted, Virgil appeared to be mentally working out something which bothered him quite a bit, as he began pacing again while chewing on his thumbnail. But before I could ask him what was wrong, he broke out into a grin again.

"Someone's reaching out of their jurisdiction!" he said in a sing-song voice. It sounded oddly sinister coming from him.

I had a bad feeling about this.

"So can you help me then?" I asked cautiously. Even though Virgil didn't seem entirely reliable, I had no choice. Paul was gone and I didn't know what to expect in this place – Nyx, I think he called it.

Virgil stroked his chin in thought. "Help? Maybe. Depends on your definition of help. I am honor-bound to _guide_ you, not _help_ you. Although I have to admit, this may be one delightful adventure to partake in! I too am curious about this breach in contract." Before I could ask what he meant, he turned to look me straight in the eyes.

Literally. Virgil's face was less than a foot away from mine. It was very unnerving, but I couldn't look away. His glassy green eye seemed terribly unnatural as its stare held me, searching. It felt like a test of some sort.

Thankfully, he broke whatever connection he had to me and retreated back a step. As I wondered why I felt so dizzy, Virgil nodded as if he saw something he expected. "I will help you, Jesse de Silva. First, we must solve the mystery as to why the shifter girl isn't dead. And the only place to find that out is to ask Thanatos himself."

When I steadied myself, I managed to ask, "How did you know my name?"

Virgil explained simply, "I looked inside. Very interesting place, that." He tapped his own head for emphasis. "You've been in existence for a good 170 years, by your realm's time. Amazing for a mortal." The fascination in his voice was distinct as he continued to stare at me with his single glassy eye.

I decided to change the subject. Realizing that Virgil had been scanning my mind was unsettling. Instead, I tried to keep track of the cluttered information he was spouting. "Thanatos… Wait, I thought Death took her."

"Thanatos _is_ Death, silly. Don't you listen? A rose by any other name still has its thorns. So! We shall venture to the abode de Thanatos!" But as he turned away from me, he said in a sudden grim tone, "Although I do warn you: Nyx is vast and unforgiving at times. Particularly since our journey will take us to the river."

Surprised at this change in mannerism, I asked, "What's wrong with the river?"

"Nothing at all. It's what's around it that you should worry about." The playful lilt in his voice was back. Virgil flashed me a brief grin before disappearing into the fog, "Follow me please!"

I ran to catch up to with him… only to run into his shoulder right after stepping in. I almost fell backwards, but Virgil – or his back, which was all I could see of him – remained standing sturdy. "Why did you stop?" I asked, a bit annoyed.

The peculiar man laughed, "Because I didn't want you to die." Virgil waved his arm at the wall of fog and it sank into the ground.

Or what I thought was the ground.

The stone gate, Virgil, and I were all perched on the overhanging ledge of a high cliff. The receding clouds of white descended into the fathomless ravine below, revealing a path ahead etched into what appeared to be… well, junk. The landscape beneath our feet seemed to be nothing but rusted pieces of metal. Cans, bicycles, sinks, and old pipes were all welded together at odd angles to make extremely treacherous-looking ledges, bony fingers reaching out from the more stable mound of rubbish and far too thin to possibly support us, much less the Gate.

And sure enough, right in front of us was nothing but air. Another step and we would've fallen. To emphasize the point, Virgil kicked a hubcap off the side. I didn't hear it hit the bottom.

"Nombre de Dios," I breathed, looking over the edge. A few more shards tumbled into the abyss, and I took a cautious step back.

"Sorry for the mess," said Virgil as he made a 90 degree turn and nonchalantly strolled towards the main ground. He continued to kick loose debris over the edge as he talked, "Things are always a bit muddled when people first get here."

I quickly followed him to get to land that wasn't defying the laws of gravity. "What do you mean by 'people'? I thought you said I was an exception."

"Oh, you are," he assured me as we made it off the ledge, much to my relief. "You're still solid, aren't you? But that means you can get hurt here too. Varying degrees of the Three Part Rule and all that." Without so much as a pause, he continued to lead me away from the gate.

Although Virgil seemed intent on leaving this place as soon as possible, I took in as much as I could of my strange surroundings. As far as I could tell, the odd metallic landscape continued rolling outward from the gate. Large sheets of metal were stuck awkwardly into the rubble-strewn land, looking much like a modern artist's most recent pieces, but blades of grass were hopefully popping up between bottles and door knobs farther out as we walked.

I was nearly jogging to keep up when I remembered what Paul and Dr. Slaski had said. "Mind, body, and soul…" I recounted aloud.

Virgil continued on at a brisk pace, but turned around backwards to speak to me at the same time. Somehow, he still managed not to trip over the haphazard piles of scrap metal. "You know of it? Then you really are a special one, aren't you?" He looked very pleased, "Spirits and dreamers are almost the same dilution of the three parts. You're still you, but less than usual."

I halted for a split second, "Dreamers?"

Virgil stopped to wave his finger at me in a chiding fashion. "What did you think Nyx was?" He produced a coin from behind his ear and flipped it in the air. Catching it between his middle and index finger, the side shown to me was not a former president's profile, but the capital 'H' surrounded by a laurel of feathers. "This is the Land of Dreams, Mr. de Silva. If you're lucky, we won't have to venture into the other half." Virgil made an about face and kept walking towards greener pastures.

* * *

Author's Notes: Late because I was reading Yakitate Japan. But just as a warning, this story gets pretty strange. If Jesse's character seems a bit... off, it's because we (the readers of the Mediator) haven't really seen those characters in any other setting besides Carmel so I'm struggling a bit to make Jesse's reaction to these weird new places natural.

But enough about my writing ordeals, I just hope you people enjoy the fic to some degree. See you next week.


	5. Grassland

Chapter 5: Grassland

_No… You're not Jesse…_

Virgil didn't seem to care if he lost me among this rubbish wasteland as he weaved smoothly between piles of old toys and broken picture frames. Even though I wasn't sure where he was leading me, his speed was welcome if it got us to Susannah faster. At least ten paces ahead, he just whistled an unfamiliar tune and twirled his flute once more, not making any effort to talk to me again.

That suited me just fine. It left me to my thoughts.

From what I could gather from his ramblings, this place was not the land of the dead like I assumed it was. Honestly, that was a relief, but it only brought up more questions. Susannah was taken by Death – er, Thanatos – but apparently not dead. To find out why, we had to ask him. I hadn't forgotten that this intrigued Virgil enough to consider helping me.

Virgil himself was a complete mystery though. A kinder person would call him 'quirky.' Susannah would call him a 'crackpot.'

He seemed to know a lot more than he was letting on. Not that he hid what he knew, but apparently buried the real answer – if there was one – under mountains of other information.

I kept watch on his back as I thought and finally noticed something.

"Hey, Virgil, about this Favor of the Gods…" I held up the ruby and examined it for a moment. There was still no sign of its first impression of trying to strangle me, just glossy and slightly warm. "This is what's keeping me tethered here, right?"

Without looking back, he replied, "Sí, señor."

I continued, "What about you? You're solid too, but don't have one apparently."

"Me? This is my job. Very boring, usually," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "No idea how that Roman does it. No one actively comes through the Gate anymore. I have to amuse myself in other ways." I didn't want to know what those were.

"You didn't answer my question," I noted as he started skipping instead of walking. The bits of metal and wire were gradually giving way to more and more grass and other flora.

"Well, you didn't ask it properly," he countered.

When he didn't elaborate, I sighed and asked directly, "Are you human?" Virgil certainly looked human and mortal, but now that I was dealing with gods apparently, all bets were off. Not to mention he demonstrated at least a small inkling of supernatural powers.

"Human?" Once again, Virgil seemed genuinely astonished and stopped mid-skip. "I suppose I am. Maybe. What a difficult question. Never thought of it that way."

How could you not be sure about something like that? Perhaps he was somewhat like Dr. Slaski and stuck between waking and dreaming. That would explain his eccentricity. I decided to tread lightly just in case it was a sensitive subject.

So finally catching up with him on top of a hill, I brushed off the subject. "Never mind. Which way to Thanatos then?"

Even though there were still a few screws here and there, we seemed to be out of the wasteland. Somehow, whatever clouds hid the stars over the rusty landscape instantly stopped at the hill. Just to be sure, I looked behind me at the dark and foreboding junk heap and then forwards again, which was as bright as noon daylight.

From our vantage point, I could see an enormous lush meadow spread out before us, wild and unkempt as clumps of flowers, bushes, and the occasional tree grew sporadically as far as the eye could see. My ears caught faint rustling here and there, but I couldn't see what was making it.

I also couldn't see a river.

My supposed guide stretched lazily and said, "The god of death and all things gross like that can be found at his river view home. So, just go to the bank and follow it upstream."

I rubbed my temple in frustration. "What river?"

"Oh, you can't see it from here." He pointed at the shadowy edge of the horizon, "We still have to cross through a good portion of the Grassland of Dreams to even get to the woods. If we make it, the Nightmares are next and _then_ the river."

As soon as he stopped talking, he headed down the hill again.

Following him, I asked, "How long will that take?" I didn't like the sound of that itinerary. That'd be at least an hour to the woods alone, judging by the terrain. Even then, my estimate may be a moot point here in the Land of Dreams.

Virgil looked at me curiously, "What, you mean like time-wise? Primary, Secondary, or Relative?" He held up a finger for each without giving an explanation. When all I did was stare blankly at him, he answered himself, "Relative, then." Holding up his hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight, Virgil looked outwards and replied, "Still a ways off. We haven't seen a single dreamer yet. How very odd."

He spoke too soon. There was an unexpected rumbling beneath our feet. By the time I could even begin to wonder what was going on, something very large, white, and hairy thundered out of the bushes and straight at me. Right before it struck me full on, I realized what it was.

A rabbit. A fluffy, giant, white rabbit the size of a car. Wearing a bowtie.

It head-butted and tossed me aside just like a rodeo bull. I instinctively shut my eyes, but after a very long few seconds, realization took over.

I hadn't hit the ground yet.

Looking around, I noticed two things. One, I was floating down instead of falling. Now, I had experimented with floating when I was a ghost – it's easy to get bored when you're dead – but got over the idea. Disappearing and reappearing was just must faster.

Two, Virgil, for the first time I had seen him, had his flute to his lips. He was playing so softly that I could barely hear it. It wasn't until I gently landed back on the springy grass that I caught the last few dulcet notes.

Still on the ground, I asked, "What was that?"

"That," he said, offering a hand up, "was a Dream. Children have the most nonsensical dreams which tend to be closer to the Gate. Fairly harmless but they have interesting imaginations."

I was a bit sore from the initial impact, but looked back at the bowtie-wearing giant rabbit which was causing great tremors as it hopped away quicker than I thought possible from an animal of that size. It seemed to be fleeing. Only then did I become aware of the crowd of child dreamers chasing it with carrots.

I sincerely wondered if I had such strange dreams as a kid.

"We should see a few more of those as we continue on," said Virgil as he helped me brush off a few bits of debris from my clothes. "Can't guarantee what form they'll be in though. There are all sorts of odd Dreams about here."

I asked desperately, "Is there a faster way to get there, besides what we're doing now?" I didn't like the idea of having to deal with these Dreams throughout the whole journey, especially if they all tried to run me down.

Virgil scratched his chin thoughtfully and a light bulb appeared above his head. Literally. Suddenly, he laughed and began to shimmer away like Paul did before.

"What you are doing!" I could only gape at him as he waved goodbye.

"Helping, of course," was all he said before he disappeared. The light bulb dropped and shattered on a rock.

I was alone.

I was alone and had no idea what to do.

Virgil had already told me, technically. Cross the grassland, then the woods, and the river should be beyond that. I didn't like the sound of those Nightmares though. I started to wonder what Virgil meant by 'helping.' Should I wait for him to come back or start towards the woods without him?

The feeling of time was muddled here and I hadn't any way of knowing how long it had been. My watch had stopped working at some point, presumably when I stepped into Nyx. Thinking of what might happen to Susannah, I decided to head forward. As a guide, Virgil was probably capable of finding me later.

Having lived – and died and lived again – only in California, I was feeling somewhat adventurous in this weird new place. Like its name, it certainly did just look like a giant patch of grass and field. Reminded me of the pastures at the ranch. The ranch, however, did not have daisies that easily rivaled the giant redwoods. What I thought were trees before turned out to be oversized flowers. And the more I looked, the more I noticed the little odd things about the grasslands. Like the fact that every once in a while, a bush would uproot itself and move five feet away to replant. Or that the same bush seemed to be blossoming blueberry muffins.

Treading through the grass that got gradually higher as I got closer to the woods, I stopped every once in awhile to look at a peculiar plant sprouting hardboiled eggs or touch the sticky, bristly trunk of a giant tulip.

I couldn't tell how much progress I was making since the underbrush ahead obscured my view of the horizon. I was prodding a familiar looking set of cymbal and drum frogs when I heard some rustling nearby. I didn't pay it much attention though as all sorts of odd things were around here. If it was a dreamer, I'd leave them alone. If it was another giant animal, I didn't want to catch its attention either.

When the frogs hopped away noisily, I started to wade further into the now knee-height long grass. In my way was another overly large hedge bush which I started to go around until I heard a growl and stood stark still.

There was a crunching of twigs underfoot as something enormous shifted out of sight. It was accompanied by a horrid rotting stench and deep guttural breathing. A pair of yellow, pupil-less eyes lumbered into view, just visible where the thick bush roots sank into the earth. It looked as if the rest of its body, hidden behind the leaves, was terribly hunched over and misshapen. The breathing got more ragged as I stared. It had spotted me.

Just then the thing let out another rumbling snarl and drew back, but not to retreat. It was getting ready to pounce. The stench intensified.

I threw up my arms and braced myself for whatever was coming, teeth, drool, or blood. Instead, there was a single sharp, deafening note. The noise made me clasp my hands to my ears and drop to my knees. As the sound gradually faded away and replaced by a ringing in my ears, I slowly raised my head again.

Virgil, who had mysteriously come back, was standing in front of me and facing the now empty hedge. I saw him lower the flute, which must've been the source of that piercing sound.

I got to my feet again, a bit shaky. "Was that another Dream?" I asked, already knowing the answer in my gut.

"No," said Virgil, concentrating on where the beast had been. "_That_ should not have been anywhere near the grassland." He was silent, looking more serious than I had ever seen him. But just as soon as it came, he broke into a grin and said, "The yin to our yang. Necessary, but usually keeps to river or the outer edge of the woods. The real question is if it was a wildflower or a potted peony."

I sighed and muttered, "One day, you'll have to give me a straight answer."

"Even if I did, who says you'll notice it?" he piped back.

Sudden realization took over. "Where did you go? I thought you were my guide." I tried to keep my tone casual, even though I considered his disappearance as another sign of his unreliability. What if that thing had eaten me? I hadn't forgotten that he himself said that I could be hurt in Nyx.

But to my surprise, Virgil just smiled and said, "The local collective has something that'll take us to the woods much faster. You did want me to help, didn't you?"

"Oh… thank you," I answered lamely. Feeling guilty about my harsh judgment, I changed subjects, "What's a collective?"

"Multiple dreamers. They tend to form large scale communal dreams with interesting results." He untied a drawstring pouch he didn't have before from his belt and tossed it to me. Curious, I opened it and found an assortment of gummy bears and doubloons inside.

"Keep them for later. Never know when you could use some sustenance."

"Er, thanks." I decided I wasn't hungry enough to try dream food just yet, but tied the pouch to my belt anyway. It was best not to question where he got it or if it had anything to do with the thing that was going to help us travel faster. "So which way now?"

Virgil pointed in a direction slightly to the right of where we were going. Not directly towards the woods, but we could make up for lost time with whatever was at the collective.

It took me a moment to start walking again. Whatever that flute did, it affected me as well. As I was catching my breath, I looked at where the monster had been. Though I hadn't seen it entirely, it clearly wasn't something I wanted to meet again. I wasn't sure if it was something I could even fight. If Virgil hadn't been here…

"You can always go back, you know," Virgil said suddenly. He must've noticed my hesitance.

"No!" I took another unsteady step forward despite the ache in my knees. "She's… very important to me."

Virgil gave me a calculating stare before saying, "I saw that in your head. Very bold girl, this Susannah is. Reminds me of someone." Virgil suddenly looked like he ate a rotten piece of fruit. Noticing my puzzled expression, he explained, "Your Susannah is much prettier. But if you're certain you want to go on…"

"I'll do whatever it takes," I replied.

He seemed to find my answer amusing, but doffed his hat in an elaborate gesture and motioned for me to walk with him. "Shall we go then?"

* * *

A/N: You have three choices of excuses this week: 1) I didn't like the organization of this chapter. 2) Computer/Internet failure. 3) I am terribly fond of naps. Guess which one is the biggest culprit. 

Anyway, yay for horrible monsters! There will be more of them, of course.

Next week is Chapter 6: Stowaway. Get on your eyepatch and pegleg, ya landlubber!


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